Letters for personal catharsis

Trigger Happy

My sneezes are knocking me off my feet with their power. Sneeze coming on? Hold onto something! It’ll be awhile before my vision clears and I can move again. One, two, three, four sneezes and then a clogged up nose that takes three tissues to clear out. Is that my brain in liquid form in the tissue? I think so. Yippee. Who needs a lobotomy when you can liquify your brain and squeeze it out from your nostrils?

Yesterdays smoke count: 2.5

I don’t feel up to swimming today. I probably could, but my nose feels like it might drag me down to the bottom of the pool with each stroke, so I think I’ll pass.

To ease my troubled mind and soul yesterday, I fell into watching Bomb Girls, a WWII period drama set in Canada, eh. (putting on Canadian accent) I like stuff from Canada, eh. Like, too much attention der is paid to stuff from da states, eh. Canada has good film and tv stuff too, eh. Where do ya think X Files was shot, eh? Canada, eh. 🙂 Can never resist a little Canadian talk. Let me get my maple syrup out. I love period dramas; I’m a Downtown Abbey freak too. Somehow, it all looks so clean and proper and simple. I know that’s just presentation and wishful thinking. If I really was stuck back in the 20s or WWII, I’d be dead by now. The RA would have caused pericarditis years ago. Nonetheless, I sigh over the hair styles and dresses and think how pleasant life back then looks in comparison to today. Maybe someone needs to do an anti-period drama: show the real problems. Shitting in a chamber pot. Dying of a splinter in your finger. Unshaven underarms. Bad teeth. The REAL past. That would certainly break my love affair with period dramas. But, since they are what they are, I love them. I love imagining myself there, dealing with the problems they face rather than the ones I face. And of course, if I lived in a period drama, everything would be wrapped up and taken care of in 40 minutes. Even bad stuff; all the pain, crying, and mourning could be cut out and flash forward several months. Boom. No long, drawn out days when I feel I just can’t EXIST anymore. Just all the interesting stuff.

I’m particularly sensitive right now to everything around me. Films, music, sound – everything. In the past three days I’ve seen more films that have turned my stomach than I have thru the rest of my life. Normally, I could watch this stuff and not be so set off. But EVERYTHING sets me off right now. Last night was a film set in 1980s Alaska about a serial rapist/killer. The male characters’ hardened attitudes towards what happens to women in Alaska (most become strippers or prostitutes) was appalling. The victim was ignored and not believed by all but one detective.

Thousands of years on this fucking planet and rape victims are still blamed for what happens to them.

Will nothing ever change?

Women are still paid a fraction of what men are, people of any color are stripped of their dignity daily, and rape victims are still questioned as to their sexual habits and mode of dress.

Make me sick.

I was once told by a new-age guru that head colds are a sign of confusion in the soul. Well, I’m confused. Confused as to why I should come out of my shell and participate.

And I’m telling myself I’m not there: I’m not in that position. I’m in an enlightened country that looks at things completely different than the states. See what’s around you NOW, woman! Don’t get lost in your head again. It’s not happening to you right now. I’m safe. I’m safe.

Safety is hard to trust. It’s so fragile. All it takes is one asshole and it’s shattered.

…’Kay. I’m not feeling safe. Don’t know why; suspect I had bad dreams again and can’t remember them. Floating. Un-anchored. Someone cut my cord and I’m adrift. So let me take the time to tell myself a few things here.

Look out the fucking window. Right now. That’s Rotterdam you see. It ain’t any of the other cities you’ve lived through. Rotterdam has a clean slate. Two canals over is where George lives. Your language class is a 15 minute walk. People expect to see you there. People are HAPPY to see you there. I know what you’re thinking: forget open mic night. Those aren’t your people and you know it. You KNOW when you’re being used; don’t deny it. Listen to me, to us, to you. Trust us, okay? We’re feeling lonely and vulnerable. That will change. People here want to be friendly. You’ll find friends. You’ll get involved. You’ll learn the language. And yes, of course we’ll meet people who want to use us for one reason or another. But if we work together we can avoid being used. If we listen to each other, we can be safe. You don’t ever want to have sex again? That’s fine with us. We don’t need to. You can keep that out of our lives. Let’s think about what we DO want in our lives. There’s plenty of things I know both of us don’t want: health problems, mosquitoes, and okra. Hate all three of them. In fact, generally when YOU hate something, I hate it too. So…can we just shift our focus a bit? ‘Cause I know there’s a lot of things we LIKE as well. Let’s spend some time thinking about those things.

Alright. I’ll try. While I continue to rest up, I’ll try to redirect my brain. Anything that sets me off should be turned off, right away. Negative thoughts must be fought. Blow them up, change them, battle them with everything I’ve got. Break that cycle right now. If that means I’m cocooning for a while, so be it. I live in a space where I CAN control what I hear and see and get exposed to. So control it. Bro wants to watch news? Bury yourself in headphones and turn on the visualizer. Stop. getting. triggered.

Currently a final year English student at the University of Cambridge. Producing Intern for Fuel Theatre July-October 2016. Aspiring Arts Administrator/Theatre Producer, blogging about my projects (mostly).

#ActuallyAutistic - An Aspie obsessed with writing. This site is intend to inspire through sharing stories & experiences. The opinions of the writers are their own. I am just an Autistic woman - NOT a medical professional.